Of Fever, Fierceness, and Fiery Heirs
by That Fantasy Junkie 96
Summary: Set in the year TA 2894, 47 years before the Quest. In Ered Luin, a terrible fever begins to strike mercilessly on dwarves. The fever hits close to home for Thorin Oakenshield when a young Kíli is afflicted. Faced with no known cure and running out of time, it may be only a determined Fíli who holds the wisdom to stop the illness. Slight AU
1. Chapter 1

AN: I used the formula for dwarf age conversion (very helpful, I highly recommend it) and have the following ages:

Fíli is 35 in dwarf years which translates to about 17. Kíli is 30 in dwarf years which is about 15. Doubling the age only works for adolescent dwarf years so please look up the formula for any age past 40. This would make Thorin 148 technically, which is 46ish, but that's not really relevant due to that lack of aging for dwarves in those years.

**Update: 3/8/2016** – I'm back…ish! I understand it's been a long time since I've posted a new chapter, and I really apologize. It's been a busy semester for me, so writing has unfortunately taken a back seat. I will be writing new material, but I first wanted to edit this, so please enjoy my improved writing and a new chapter is on its way!

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Fíli, son of Dís, heir of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King under the Mountain, was not a dwarf for awkward situations, especially during supper. What should've have been a nice time for him to talk to his mother and uncle was spent with their identical blue eyes shifting to the front door every minute or so.

There was complete silence. This was the third night in a row that his brother Kíli was coming home late.

Dís, his mother, would let his Uncle Thorin do most of the punishing, mostly because it bothered him more. Thorin glanced once more and his younger sister could not handle the silence. "For Mahal's sake, Thorin, he's still a child. Sometimes, he loses track of time."

Thorin dropped his wooden spoon into his bowl and raised an eyebrow. "This is acceptable to you?" he asked and motioned to Fíli. "I do not remember Fíli acting the same way at that age."

_Please leave me out of this_, Fíli thought grimly. He didn't like being compared to his brother, even when Kíli wasn't around. They were different, and there was nothing wrong with that, but he knew his little brother hated the comparisons, and he wasn't going to do that to him when he wasn't even here to defend himself.

"Fíli has never been late, not one night, Dís."

"I do not particularly enjoy it either," she snapped back. "But it's not something for which to punish him so harshly. Kíli takes after his father, therefore it is not him that I blame for being irresponsible."

"Yes, he _is_ his father's son," Thorin pointed out. "That is why I worry."

Fíli saw his mother's cheeks flush red momentarily. Hardly a dent had been made in her stew, but she stood up and left the table anyway. "I'm tired," she stated. "Fíli?"

"Yes?"

"Would you wake me when Kíli comes home?"

Fíli smiled. "Of course." He really wished that his mother hadn't left the table so soon. He hated being alone with his uncle when he was in one of his moods. However, he knew that retreating to his room would only make matters worse. He knew it was only a matter of when, not if, before Thorin would start to complain about-

"What are we going to do with your brother?"

Fíli sighed and listened to the rain outside the window. It was getting heavier and his annoyance at Kíli was slowly changing to worry. "I've never known what to do with him. You should not fret over it, Uncle. Kíli is wild by nature." That was the truth.

Fíli enjoyed being a child, of course, but his brother enjoyed it to the point of staying a child. Every time he came home late or did something extremely unintelligent, it wasn't out of open defiance, it was because he really had no grip on consequences.

However, from a very early age Fíli felt the pressures of being the heir to his uncle. It was apparent that Thorin was not going to have children of his own, and when Fíli had turned 20, his uncle began talking to him about Erebor. He talked about it to his brother, of course, but there was always something different in his tone of voice when he talked to his eldest nephew about their lost home.

"He's growing lazy," Thorin commented quietly as he pushed his finished bowl aside.

"_Growing_ lazy?" Fíli asked with a laugh, hoping his uncle would join in. He didn't.

"I am very thankful that you heed the word of me and your mother, that you do not deliberately try to put us into an early grave."

"I can talk to him when he gets home," Fíli offered, but Thorin shook his head.

"No, I will speak to him. This kind of behavior has to stop." Not soon after that, the door opened and Fíli was relieved to see his little brother step through, trailing rain and mud in with him. Kíli was soaking wet and usually would've walked through the door while rapidly spitting out some sort of excuse as to why he was late, but he just walked past the table and barely made eye contact with either of them.

That was strange. "Kíli?" Fíli asked out of concern, but Thorin stood in his youngest nephew's way with dissatisfied arms crossed.

"Where have you been?" he asked sternly, but patiently.

Kíli dropped his outside cloak carelessly on the floor and didn't get the hint as he avoided Thorin and headed toward his room. "Sorry," he muttered. "The rain...didn't know how late it was."

"Mmhmm," his uncle replied. "You're not going to bed yet. You're going to tell me the truth."

"Tired," Kíli said sluggishly, completely ignoring Thorin. Fíli stood and began to walk over.

"I don't care if you're tired," Thorin said. "I want an explanation."

"Tired..." the young dwarf repeated and kept walking. Thorin caught him by the wrist.

"Do not walk away from-"

"Tired." Without another word, Kíli collapsed, but before a head injury occurred, Thorin caught him.

"Kíli!" they exclaimed in unison, and Fíli rushed over. Thorin knelt down with Kíli and rested his nephew's head on one of his knees. A hurried hand touched his forehead and cheeks and came back soaked in rain water and sweat.

"He's burning up," Thorin mumbled. "Dís!" he called, and she appeared quite suddenly due to her brother's unusually frantic yelp.

"What's wro-? Kíli!" She covered her mouth in horror at the sight of her youngest. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed," Thorin said helplessly. "He's so warm...I don't know-"

"Get him in bed," she finished Thorin's thought.

Fíli's room was the nearest and his uncle pushed open the door with his foot and laid his little brother on the bed. "What's wrong with him?" Fíli asked and looked desperately to his mother.

"I can't say, darling. Go fetch a cloth and a bowl of cold water."

Fíli didn't need to be told twice and he returned in seconds. His mother grabbed the cloth soaked in chilled water and placed it on Kíli's forehead in an attempt to get him to wake. "Kíli, honey? It's Mother. You're safe. Can you wake up, sweetheart? Wake up, Kíli."

Thorin placed a hand on Fíli's shoulder. Slowly, Kíli's eyes flitted open and they darted around the room in confusion.

"Mother?" he croaked.

"Right here," she said with a forced smile. Kíli spotted Thorin because he was taller than Fíli, but he had a hard time locating his big brother.

"Where's Fíli?"

Fíli gripped one of his brother's warm, clammy hands to show him that he was still there. "I'm here," he said firmly.

"He has some kind of fever," Dís said. "A bad one. Fíli, listen to me. I need you to run and find Óin. He'll know more about this than me. Thorin, go with him."

"What if you need help-?" he began, but Dís cut him off.

"Go with Fíli! I can handle it for now."

Thorin pulled on Fíli's arm with determination. "C'mon!"

"Where are you going?" Kíli called out in a daze.

"Don't worry, brother," Fíli replied. "Mother's here, we'll be right back. Just hold on."

Not bothering to put on any kind of outdoor cloak to shield himself from the driving rain, Fíli burst out of their house with his uncle to find Óin.

_Kíli will be just fine_, he told himself. _He has to be_.

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Thanks for reading! More updated chapters and new material to come!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter and not despising it by moving onto the second one! I'm sorry if this one is a bit slow, but I need to put some background into my story.

Gimli is 15 at this time, which is around 7 or 8 in our years.

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"What do you mean, you don't know what this is?" Thorin muttered furiously inside the house of Óin. Fíli felt an awful pit in his stomach at the other dwarf's answer.

"I do not know what it is," Óin repeated firmly. "I have ten sick children in here, one whom is my young nephew, Gimli. He is a dwarfling of fifteen, Thorin, so do not be so quick to assume that I do not want an answer as badly as you do."

"Gimli is sick as well?" Fíli asked with shock. "…Ten children?" The same Gimli that he and Kíli helped to be a little soldier while his father was working? The same Gimli that would eventually get impatient and would be content with smacking him and his brother with his practice sword? Stubborn, belligerent, unyielding Gimli?

"Seems like it's eleven now, with young Kíli," said Óin. "And that is not counting the adults that I hear are sick, too. My little brother is begging me for an answer and I do not have one. Do you know what that is like, my dear friend?" he asked Thorin.

"Yes," Thorin replied without thought. Fíli's mind then went to Frerin, the brother of his mother and uncle, the brother they rarely mentioned.

"Then you should know that I will do anything for Glóin, and little Gimli, and I do not have time for foolish questions such as yours!"

Fíli knew that ordinarily Óin would speak to his uncle with more respect, but upon seeing the bags under the older dwarf's eyes, he knew that Óin had to be frustrated and exhausted with taking care of all of the sick, and the last thing on his tuckered mind was pleasing Thorin.

"Do not make the mistake in thinking that I do not care for Kíli's health," he said. "You seem to have forgotten that it was I who pulled the lad through his first fever, but I have other children to deal with as well, one of them my close kin!"

"Then what am I to do?" Thorin asked boldly.

In a calmer voice, Óin spoke. "We are taking the children to the only healing house in Ered Luin, to get help from more experienced hands. I suggest you do the same with Kíli."

"He is in no condition to move; he needs someone to come to our home."

"None of them are in the proper condition, but what choice do we have?" Óin asked. "I cannot prioritize anyone, Thorin - not even Kíli...not even Gimli. There are too many sick. We're moving them in the morning."

"Óin," the distant voice of Glóin called. It seemed to be coming from one of the bedrooms in the back of the home.

"On my way," Óin replied and Thorin put a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it, Óin?" he asked. He wanted answers. He wanted to know why his youngest sister-son was too weak to stand, too weak to stay conscious at times.

Óin sighed. "I do not know. It is a fever for sure, but this is much different than anything I have experienced. My hands are tied."

"Has anyone...d-" Fíli swallowed thickly and tried again, "passed?"

Óin shook his head somberly. "One lad around Kíli's age did. He made it about three weeks before the fever won. Another, a little lass of thirteen. Thirteen, Thorin - so young, such a future ahead of her, and I could do nothing. She lasted about the same time. One lad pulled through, but just the one."

"This has been happening for weeks, then?" Fíli said in shock. "Why have we not heard of it?" he demanded.

"Those three were the first to get sick, laddie. When one out of them made it through, we figured it was a terrible, but typical fever. That is...until now. Eleven children sick in two days, and possibly many more. I do not know what is going to happen."

"Óin!" Glóin called again.

"I must check on Gimli."

"May I come in as well?" Fíli asked suddenly.

"Why?" Óin and Thorin asked together.

"He is my kin, no? Distantly, yes, but still family. I would like to see him."

"I will not have you get sick as well, Fíli," Thorin said firmly. "That is the last thing your mother needs."

"We could all get sick, Uncle. That does not mean that we abandon those who are ill out of fear." Thorin raised his eyebrows at his nephew's comment. If they weren't inside a home, with many sick and miserable dwarves, then he might not have put much thought into throwing Fíli over his shoulder and solving any debates of staying at Óin's home.

Óin smiled, in spite of the severity of the situation. "You can go in, but be careful." He snorted. "Stubborn lad, eh?"

"He gets that from his mother," Thorin muttered. He and Fíli followed Óin into what was most likely his room. On a bed, there was little Gimli, and there were two more children who occupied mattresses on the floor, their mothers and fathers close to them.

The young, chestnut-haired dwarfling was clearly feeling and showing the effects of the fever. He was sweaty, shaky, eyes focusing on nothing and everything in a semi-conscious haze.

An older dwarf with the same shade of hair sat in a wooden chair, his hand in Gimli's. It was Glóin. He was whispering sweet nothings to his child when he caught sight of the three new additions to the room.

There was his elder brother, Óin, still looking miserable with lack of sleep, but showing no signs of wanting to rest. Thorin Oakenshield entered with young Fíli, the golden-haired lad wore a worried expression, but stood as strongly as his uncle.

Glóin ran a hand over Gimli's forehead. "He's warmer, Óin. What shall we do?"

"A cool cloth for now," he replied, handing it to his brother.

Glóin looked to Thorin and Fíli and managed a small smile. "Hello, lads. Where is Kíli?" he asked, knowing that the pair were rarely seen around Ered Luin without the charming and fiery dark-haired dwarfling.

Thorin sighed, but Fíli answered. "He is sick, as well." He hardly knew that he could say it without choking up, but he got it out nonetheless.

_I should've done something_, Fíli thought. _He wouldn't be ill if I had been paying better attention_.

"Mahal, help us," Glóin said with acid in his voice, cursing whatever was responsible for the horrible ailment. "When this fever has hold of one as fearless as your brother, it is time to worry."

"Indeed," Fíli answered, the cracks in his voice were now noticeable as he thought more and more of his brother. His brother who was lying hopelessly in bed, confused, scared, and probably asking for him at this point. "We should go soon, Uncle. Mother will need help."

"F-Fíli?" they heard Gimli call out. Fíli looked to Glóin for permission to come over and the older dwarf nodded.

"He has been talking all night about missing his training with you and Kíli. He loves it so."

Fíli came over and put on a small smile, one that the dwarfling needed to see. "Hello, Gimli. Feeling a bit under the weather?"

"Training...we have to practice...tomorrow. Am I...too s-sick?"

"No worries," Fíli said. "We can practice whenever you feel up to it."

"Promise you won't...forget?"

Fíli took a sharp breath in. "Promise. As soon as you're...better, we can train. Kíli will be there, too."

"When will I be better?"

Fíli looked wide-eyed to Glóin, not wanting to answer this question.

"Soon, laddie," Óin assured him. "I will make you all better."

"Gimli, I have to get back to Kíli now. You understand that, right? My little brother needs me."

"Is he sick t-too?" Gimli asked.

"...Yes." He felt like screaming. He felt like shaking Óin until he found of what was wrong with Kíli. He wanted to scour Middle-earth for anything, anyone that could help.

He wanted his father.

He would've known what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN 3/8/2016: **Enjoy! Also, Happy International Women's Day!

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Within two more days, the total number of sick was 46, 32 children and 14 adults. Thorin Oakenshield divided his time with taking care of Kíli, who was increasingly more distraught, and trying his best to calm the dwarves of the Blue Mountains.

They were growing angrier and angrier as more of their kin were falling ill. Outraged parents blamed Thorin for the state of their dwarflings, and the dwarf healers could do little to help the sick. They knew not what the sickness was, nor how it spread, how it could be prevented, and most importantly, how to cure it.

Fíli sat next to his brother's bed. He had hardly noticed that he hadn't slept in days. His brother needed him. His mother needed him. He would not have her keel over by being the only other person looking after Kíli.

Kíli was his responsibility, as well. That was why he stayed with him, regardless of the healers warning him of getting sick as well. The only thing they had told him that he listened to was covering his nose and mouth with a cloth whenever he visited Kíli, which was frequently.

Paying the proper respect to the kin of Durin, the healers tried to please Thorin by giving his youngest sister-son a private and spacious room. This was covering up for the fact that they could do nothing more for him than they could for anybody else.

The chills had begun to set in and Kíli was shaking like a leaf. Fíli wished that he could do more. He wished that he could take the pain away, that he could find some perfect cure and his brother would suddenly spring out of bed and would be able to keep down his food.

"Fíli?" he opened his eyes, which had a dewy glaze over them. His skin, which was usually bright and full of color, was disturbingly pale.

"Yeah, Kíli?" Fíli spoke strongly through the cloth.

"I'm cold." Kíli's voice was barely that of a whisper and was thick with dryness. No matter how much he drank, he was always thirsty.

"I know."

"Sometimes I'm cold, and sometimes...it's like I'm on f-fire. What's happening to me, Fíli?"

"I don't want to lie to you. We don't know what's going on with you yet, but we will," he promised. "Whatever this is, we'll- I'll figure it out. I promise you, brother. I will figure it out."

"...Will I die?" he asked suddenly. Even in this state, Kíli did not have a filter. It was actually a good sign. It meant that is spirit was intact.

"Of course not," Fíli replied without thought. He was not letting himself even exercise that possibility in his brain.

A coughing fit attacked Kíli and more chills wracked his frame with violent shivers. Fíli pulled the blanket further up his brother's body and tucked them under his chin. "Get some sleep. I'll figure it out."

"Okay, Fíli." Satisfied, Kíli drifted back off into sleep and the door opened.

Thorin stood in silence, smiling softly when he caught sight of his sleeping nephew. "He was always a restless sleeper," he said quietly, speaking more to himself, although he was addressing Fíli.

"In the winter, your mother would wrap him tightly in three thick blankets, and by the morning he would always find his way out of them. I have never seen him sleep motionlessly until this week."

"I noticed that, too," Fíli said grimly, pulling the cloth down to his neck.

"Have you slept at all?" Thorin asked.

"Some," he lied. "In any case, it does not matter. This is more important."

"You are no use to him half-alive," his uncle stated impatiently, tapping his right foot.

"What if he needs me?" Fíli countered. "What if he gets scared, and calls out for me, and I don't come to him down because my excuse is 'I was sleeping'?"

"Your mother can watch Kíli, if you agree to accompany me to a council meeting."

Fíli blinked in mild shock. "You have never let me attend any of those. You always said that it wasn't my place to get involved with things just yet."

"But things are getting involved with you, Fíli. Your brother is sick. This is your problem. I would you like to come with me."

He glanced at his brother and then looked back up at Thorin with desperate eyes. They were a pastel blue, same as his uncle's, same as his mother's. It was the only physical trait of his that was not similar to his father's.

And, ironically, one of the only physical traits that his father had given Kíli were his eyes. Aside from that, and some said his smile, Kíli took after the Durin side like nobody could deny.

Sometimes this bothered Fíli. He was Thorin's heir, but he looked like his father, who had only been a commoner. He was not ashamed of that fact, only aware of it. "But what if-?"

"Do you think your mother incapable of taking care of him?"

"No."

"Then, let her." Thorin motioned to the door. "Come with me, Fíli. Please."

It wasn't a word that his uncle used often. It wasn't a word that any dwarf used often. He nodded and sat up. With one last look at Kíli, he let his mother in the room. She pulled back her raven colored hair into a tight ponytail and smiled at her eldest son.

"You've done more than enough, sweetheart. He knows that. I appreciate your dedication." She looked to Thorin. "Both of your dedication."

"It's my duty, as well."

Thorin nodded, agreeing with the statement. Dís took the seat that Fíli had previously occupied and smoothed the sweat-soaked hair of her youngest.

"Go ahead," she told them, needing this moment with her ill son.

With that, uncle and sister-son left the healing house to attend the council meeting. The oliphaunt in the room would undoubtedly be discussed: How to rid Ered Luin of the deadly fever.

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It's shorter than the usual chapters, I know. I'm a horrible person.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I am overwhelmed by the amount of followers, it means a lot. I do not like to toot my own horn, (oh, brass player jokes) but I think this is the best chapter of the story so far.

**AN 3/8/2016:** What she said.

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At the start of the meeting, Fíli had been silent. He didn't feel comfortable there. Most of time, in any situation, he hated being the youngest. It always made him feel that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to do something stupid. He usually didn't have this problem, as Kíli was always the youngest wherever he went.

The council room he had entered was spacious and unbelievably bright, but rather simple. The floor was wood the high ceiling lit up by lanterns to give the room a rather sunny glow. A glorious table made of ivory wood stood boldly in the room. In each of the ornate ivory wood chairs (which there were thirty of) sat a dwarf. The youngest, to his dismay, was Fíli, who had gotten more than just a few strange glances and remarks about his youth.

_"Still a dwarfling."_

_"Is he even 20 yet?" with a snicker._

_"Maybe Thorin is tiring of his duties already and wants to give them to this lad."_

Fíli wanted to tell the nosy old dwarves that he was only 5 years away from his coming of age, and that he could do without their opinions on the matter, but he would only be going through the motions.

He had thought of nothing but Kíli since first leaving the healing house. There would be another time to prove himself to the aged councilors, who were nearly impossible to please by anyone in any situation.

Nirnar, the eldest councilor, who had graced Middle-earth with his presence for nearly 310 years, an unheard of age for a dwarf, spoke first. "46 sick, most of them dwarflings. No known cure, death in 2 out of 3 cases. Does anyone have any idea of what our next move should be?"

He looked to Thorin, who always sat at the head of the table. Fíli was honored to be asked to sit on his uncle's right side, while the left side was occupied by Dwalin.

Technically, it was Dwalin who usually sat on the right side, but he had offered his seat to Fíli, saying that it would be good practice for him.

Many of the other councilors did not take well to Dwalin. Unlike his mild-mannered brother, he was loud, opinionated, and he most always propped his muddy boots up on the table. However, he was Thorin's most trusted and loyal friend, one that he wanted by his side whenever there were important matters to discuss.

Thorin cleared his throat and any side conversations died down immediately. "By a show of hands, who has a family member or wife ailing right now?"

Slowly, about half of the room raised their hands. Fíli did not bother to. Thorin looked around to the councilors, observing who was directly affected and who was not.

"Add two more hands for me and Fíli."

"Surely Dís is not sick?" Nirnar asked. "I do not think Mahal himself could bring her down." The others nodded in agreement. The day Dís, daughter of Thráin, granddaughter of Thrór was sick, was the day all of their beards fell off.

Thorin would have laughed, but there was no humor in where the fever had chosen to take out its aggression. "Dís is healthy."

"By all that is good," Balin spoke with surprise. "It cannot be the lad."

In all of the chaos, Thorin remembered that he had forgotten to tell Balin, and Dwalin had obviously respected the fact that it was Thorin's place whom to tell.

"Aye," Thorin answered grimly. "Kíli does suffer from the fever."

Balin sighed and more murmurs broke out in the council room. Fíli pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling a terrible headache, even though they were not loud at all.

"Merciless, it is," Dwalin remarked. "The lad is not but 30."

Delseg, a young, raven-haired dwarf spoke. "Is it true that Glóin's wee lad, Gimli, ails as well? A dwarfling of 15?"

"Aye," Balin confirmed, when his thoughts moved to his first cousin, once-removed. He was showing resilience, because he was a stubborn little thing, but Balin feared for his kin.

Delseg spoke again, always one for talking over others. "It is terrible! My own sister is sick, as well. She lies shivering on a bed while nothing is done." With that, he pinned his eyes to Thorin.

"Are you implying my involvement?" Thorin asked patiently, an amused glint in his blue eyes.

"I am implying your dis-involvement," Delseg replied and Fíli narrowed his eyes. He knew that his uncle was doing all he could because, not only did he have to deal with the sickness, his own kin lay stricken with it as well.

"I talk to the healers every day," Thorin tried to appease the bitter councilor. "They have nothing new to tell me, therefore I have nothing new to tell you."

Talna, the first female councilor since Náin II's time spoke. "Then, why are we here?"

Fíli respected the fact that she had to be extremely strong-willed and intelligent to earn a spot on a council full of male dwarves. It couldn't have been easy, but he did not have to like her. He was having a hard time liking any of them.

"Because I think it is time that we alert other lands," Thorin said. "We clearly cannot handle this. We need to find someone who can. I have sent scouts to try and find the best raw medicine that they can, things we do not have in our own land. However, I fear that without the wisdom of the people who know these medicines, they may be useless. We must reach out."

Talna wrinkled her nose and stroked her short brown beard. "Do you have the free folk in mind, or someone different?"

"Different?" Balin asked innocently.

"People with whom we do not want to associate," Delseg cut in. "I want to call on people who would be most helpful to our situation."

"Does it matter?" Fíli piped up for the first time and all eyes fell on him. Many of them were shocked and irritated at a dwarfling getting his opinion in. Thorin's eyes were inscrutable as he waited for his nephew to continue.

Fíli continued when Dwalin winked at him, urging him to disagree if he wanted to. He did more than enable confrontations; he encouraged them. "If anyone can help, does it matter who they are? The free folk may not be so eager to help us, as many of them can barely help themselves. Is it not wise to ask a wealthier land?"

"Speak plainly, young lord," Nirnar said.

"What people are known far and wide for their medicine?"

It was only a small and quiet suggestion, but it started a whirlwind of shouts and objections.

"I will have no elf come to these lands!"

"They are treacherous!"

"Foolish!"

"They will not help us!"

"I would not trust an elf as far as I could throw one!"

"How dare you implicate elves!"

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed and stood, and the room fell silent again. Sitting back down, he addressed Fíli. "Not up for discussion, Fíli. No elves."

"But Thorin-!"

"Not up for discussion," he repeated.

Fíli would not drop the matter. He was not overly-fond of elves, but he would set aside that prejudice because they were the best healers in Middle-earth. It was the best chance he could give Kíli and the others. He would not be swayed otherwise.

He stood. "What do you think will happen if we call upon some other race? They will get here, be able to do nothing, and we will be stuck in the same situation. Meanwhile, more will be infected and a great deal more could die!"

Nirnar looked like he was going to speak, but Fíli snapped at him.

"Does it _sound_ like I'm done?"

Dwalin let out a hearty laugh as others gasped in shock. "More could die like your first cousin once-removed," Fíli pointed at Dwalin and Balin, "your sister," he pointed at Delseg, "your grandson," he pointed at Nirnar, then he pointed at Thorin, "and your sister-son who just so happens to be my little brother! And this is 'not up for discussion' to any of you?"

Fíli didn't know how to stop. Once he had started releasing his anger and frustration about Kíli's fever, he didn't think he could ever reel it back. "Are we so blind with hatred that our kin will die for it? If that is the case, then we are both moronic and cruel!"

Before anyone could speak, not that they would have a suitable argument, a young dwarf burst through the door and rushed to Thorin.

Speaking with heavy breaths, he handed a parchment to him.

"What is it?" Thorin asked.

"I bring news, My Lord. Dáin Ironfoot rides for Ered Luin."

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Yes, Dáin does have an important role in this tale. Please tell me what you think of it.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Wow! I am overwhelmed at the response to the latest chapter. It really means a lot. As I've mentioned, Dáin will have a part to play, although if you haven't figured it out, this is a Fíli-centric story. Anywho, tell me what you think please, and enjoy.

**AN 3/8/2016:** Who's this nerd?

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Fíli's walk back to the healing house with his uncle was just as awkward as he had anticipated it to be. After the message of Dáin coming to Ered Luin, Thorin had looked like he was going to explode with rage, and he dismissed the meeting. There was still no decision made about whom to contact for help, and his uncle had promised everyone that they would resume the topic soon.

After Fíli's outburst, no one had mentioned elves either.

_What has gotten into me? _Fíli thought miserably. He had never openly defied his uncle like that before, and he normally would not have dreamed about shouting at the councilors like he had, dwarves who were much older and wiser than him. He had practically insulted his uncle directly, and he did not know why. It had barely taken him five minutes before he was out of his chair and pointing fingers.

His uncle took pride in the fact that he was the ideal heir, obedient, collected, and most importantly, respectful. What was so different now? Why was he suddenly so angry, so difficult? He usually left that kind of frustrating behavior for...

_Whatever the reason is, it does not matter_, he concluded. Thorin was probably furious with him. Not only had he shamed him during his first council meeting, but he had done it in front of others, people who were supposed to look up to his uncle. _How can I ever make this up to him?_

As they walked, a soft drizzle of rain bounced off of them. It was fairly cold for an autumn night, and the threat of winter was looming like a terrible black cloud. Fíli broke the peaceful pitter-patter of the droplets hitting the ground and spoke. "Uncle, I-"

Thorin put up his hand and immediately silenced his nephew. "I do not want to speak of this right now. There are deeper matters to discuss than that temper-tantrum of yours."

Fíli nodded his head in agreement and decided that it was probably a bad idea to tell his uncle that his opinion on asking the Elves for help had not changed. He knew that his uncle would do anything to help Kíli and that eventually he would come around if push came to shove.

Maybe the arrival of Dáin would make that conversation obsolete; maybe that was why he was riding for Ered Luin, although it seemed awfully soon for word to travel to the Iron Hills. And who would tell the Iron Hills in the first place? Fíli had many questions, but he was fearful of heckling his uncle about them, who was clearly not in the mood.

Fíli decided not to ask if the arrival of Dáin was a good or bad thing, but Thorin brought it up anyway. "I was hesitant about asking Dáin for help," he said quietly. "It's complicated, but he and I are not on the friendliest of terms. I do not know why he is here, but he was not summoned. When he arrives, we may have to fill him in entirely about what's been going on. Do you remember Dáin?"

Fíli searched his mind. "Vaguely."

"You're lucky. He's not the easiest dwarf you will come across. Things are never what they seem with him." When Thorin was done speaking, the rest of the walk was silent. They reached the healing house and headed to Kíli's room, like they normally would have. When they got a moment alone, Fíli would be anxious to tell his brother all about the council meeting, knowing that he would praise him for speaking out.

Kíli was never blatantly disrespectful, but he did not favor most of the councilors. He did not like the way they treated his uncle, the way they occasionally whispered about the former kings of Erebor.

As they walked, a young healer with blond hair announced, "Someone is already in there with him."

"His mother will not mind," Thorin stated.

"His mother retreated for the night. Someone else is in there."

Fíli and Thorin exchanged confused glances. Thorin pushed the healer aside with a hard shove and rushed into the room, his nephew at his heels.

They stopped in the doorway when they saw a dwarf standing by the bed, his hand stroking a sleeping Kíli's forehead. Fíli felt for the small blade in his sleeve, for reassurance.

The dwarf had a rather rugged look about him, but he was dressed in fine clothing. His long red beard was disturbed by no gray, neither was his hair that came down to his back. Hard gray eyes stared down a long nose as he caught sight of Thorin and Fíli.

Dáin dropped his hand and smiled faintly. "Hello, Thorin."

That was all he managed to say before Thorin lunged and had him pinned to the wall.

"Thorin!" Fíli shouted, trying his best to avoid a conflict, but he was too late. The hand that Thorin had on Dáin's collarbone was soon shaken off as Dáin shoved him back a few feet. The two engaged in a battle of swift strikes, before they split momentarily to catch their breath.

"What in the name of Mahal are you doing in his room?!" Thorin roared, finger pointed straight at his cousin.

He lunged again, but two dwarves came in the room, hearing the commotion, and one caught his right arm, which he was brandishing in the air as he continued to shout at Dáin.

One of them was Bofur. "Relax, Thorin!" he begged. "It's your kin!"

The other dwarf was the healer who had known of Dáin's arrival and did not think it was anything to be concerned about. He tried to grab Thorin's other arm when Fíli turned to him, hand gripping the collar of his tunic.

"If you cannot control who comes into my brother's room, then I want you to leave," Fíli stated in a tone that meant the topic was not up for discussion. The healer nodded and left, leaving Thorin Oakenshield to conduct his own affairs. The dwarf knew his place better than to tell him whom he could and could not attack.

Thorin shoved Bofur off and Fíli was about to get involved when a voice broke the pandemonium.

"Uncle?"

Kíli muttered in confusion and tried his best to prop himself up on his elbows. He took one look at Dáin, someone that Fíli knew his brother would not remember, then at Thorin, who had a small cut on his lip after his scuffle with his cousin, and widened his dark eyes for an explanation.

Fíli rushed over and took one of Kíli's hands in his own; at that point he could not have cared less about the fever spreading.

"Kíli, look at me," he said hurriedly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fi-"

"Is he hurt?" Dáin hissed. "Do you think me capable?"

Fíli stood, a fire in his heart prompted him to stand face to face with the older dwarf, completely prepared, completely willing to do anything to protect his brother. "I haven't the slightest idea of what you are capable. I do not know you. What I do know is that I do not like distant relatives showing up and sneaking into my little brother's room, my brother who is too ill to defend himself!"

"I-"

"When I ask him if he is hurt, you shut it until I am positive that he is okay. Am I clear?"

Dáin stood utterly abashed, not expecting this reaction from Thorin or Fíli at all.

Thorin supported his eldest nephew and stood next to him, a shield between Kíli and his cousin.

"Explain yourself," he demanded.

"Fetch Dís and I will tell you everything you want to know. I have not seen her in years."

"Dáin?" Kíli asked incredulously, suddenly putting the pieces together.

"Good to see you again, nephew."

"Uncle Thorin, why did you-? What's going o-?" Kíli suddenly put the palm of his hand to his forehead and let out a groan, a terrible headache forcing him to collapse back onto his pillow and cough helplessly.

"Kíli..." Fíli came back to the bed, scolding his brother for exerting himself. He took a cup of water from a nearby stand and assisted the bed-rested dwarfling in drinking a few sips. "Lie back down," he commanded softly and Kíli obeyed. "We can handle this."

"I will not do this here," Thorin told his cousin. "My nephew needs his rest. We will pay a visit to Dís. Bofur?"

"Yes?" the dwarf asked, thankful to have a task to do.

"Would you watch Kíli?"

"Of course."

"Let no one in that does not...belong."

Dáin raised his eyebrows and scoffed, as Thorin's last comment was aimed at him.

"I understand," Bofur assured him.

Fíli stood by the doorway and motioned to Dáin. "You first."

Dáin did as he was instructed and left. Thorin bent over and placed a kiss on Kíli's forehead.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Kíli nodded. "What is Dáin doing here?" he asked softly. He was beginning to grow weary again and Thorin shook his head.

"It does not matter right now. I'll visit soon."

He left with Fíli and immediately the concern he had for Kíli melted into the anger he felt at Dáin. He wanted answers. He wouldn't give his third cousin quite the warm welcome that he expected. If Dáin could not help with their fever, then Dáin was no help at all.


	6. Chapter 6

Fíli, son of Dís, heir of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King under the Mountain, was, at this point, all too familiar with awkward silences.

Dáin was insistent on seeing Dís to explain himself.

Thorin was insistent on having Dáin explain himself when he was not in the presence of Kíli. Fíli still did not fully understand his uncle's attack on the other dwarf.

It was odd, yes, that Dáin had gone straight to Kíli's room before talking or seeing anyone else. It was strange that he had been perching over his brother's bed like a hawk over a field mouse.

It was strange, Fíli knew this, but his brother was fine, not harmed by this dwarf in any way. Perhaps he had over-reacted. After all, Dáin was his uncle; he was kin. Yes, he was kin that Fíli did not often see, but he was not the kind to immediately think the worst of family.

_Things are never what they seem with him. _Yet, his uncle's stern voice still rang in his head, and Fíli concluded that he should be cautious of Dáin, but not purposefully cruel.

It was apparent that Thorin did not care. The first thing that his uncle had done upon seeing Dáin was attack him. There was bad blood, anyone could see that, but whatever this was about, Fíli hoped that it could have some sort of solution to stopping the fever.

They were running out of time; Kíli was running out of time. He had first come home and collapsed three days ago. Three weeks was the average lifespan of the dwarves who ended up dying from the fever. Of course, there was always the chance that Kíli could pull through on his own, but that was a slim chance, a chance which his older brother could not take.

He had two and a half weeks left, if the worst were true. He did not doubt Kíli's strength, but he also did not doubt the strength of the fever. He had to figure it out, not only for Kíli, but for everyone.

They were his people, and although he was far from a king yet, Fíli felt a need to protect them, a need to make their suffering his suffering.

He knew that they had not yet made a decision on whom to call upon, and he knew that they had sent scouts to try and find medicine, but Fíli always had the feeling that they were not doing enough.

How could they have time for a house visit to his mother? He just hoped to Mahal that the arrival of Dáin would be relevant to their situation.

Fíli had been so caught up in his thoughts, that before he knew it, they were at his home. The two story brick building suddenly seemed very welcoming. He had not noticed or appreciated before just how handsome the house was. Even in the middle of a rainy night, one or two lamps in the home made it glow like a single, unwavering candle.

He longed to open the stained red door with its pure silver handle, because he longed for his own bed. He needed sleep, he knew that, but he could not slow down. He was beginning to realize that he could not just listen to his uncle's opinions on everything. He wanted to know why Dáin was here, and he wanted to make his own opinion on his...uncle.

Thorin opened the door - his mother must have forgotten to lock it - and the three stepped in. She was sitting at the supper table, a large wooden mug before her. She didn't look up, didn't seem to care who came in the door.

Gripping the mug, her sheer blue eyes drifted off into space, a terribly exhausted look about her. She was dressed for bed, but it looked as though she had gotten no sleep. She ran a hand over the small black sideburns that were on her cheeks when she noticed the three who had come in.

Thorin and Fíli were old news, but Dáin? Ordinarily, she might have jumped up to meet him, asking all these questions about why he was such a stranger, but she settled for a sharp eyebrow raise.

"Dáin," she said, only slightly involved in the visit. "Good to see you."

Without permission, he took a seat across from her and took the mug that she was clutching. Without having to sniff, he knew that it was ale of a significant strength.

"Is that wise?" he asked.

"Do I care?" she shot back. "My youngest son is lying in a bed, weak and wasting away. I am his mother. I am supposed to have some kind of remedy to make all of his pain go away, but I do not. I cannot tell him when he is going to get better, because I do not know if he _is_ going to get better. Do you not think that I am deserving of alcohol in this situation?"

Dáin nodded and Fíli snatched the mug from him and dumped the remainder of the liquid in a potted plant. He and Thorin sat as well.

"Mother," Fíli began cautiously. "You cannot give up just yet. There is hope for Kíli. You know he will fight until the end, but he needs you strong as well. Please get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I want to sleep," she declared, and Thorin tried next.

"Are you at all curious as to know what Dáin is doing here?"

She shrugged. "I guess that is useful information."

Both Thorin and Fíli looked to Dáin, expecting the full explanation that he had promised. All eyes on him, he tried to speak smoothly. "Where do I begin?"

"The beginning," Thorin spat. "How and why are you here? How do you know about our problem when I sent no one to inform you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I were here by chance, and I just so happened to stumble into your situation?"

"No."

"Fine," Dáin replied. "But that's the truth. I have not seen a fever this aggressive before. I want to do what I can."

"How did you get into my brother's room?" Fíli's question suddenly brought Dís back into the conversation.

"He was in Kíli's room? When?"

"Just after you left, I think," Dáin admitted.

"But _why?_" Thorin demanded. "How did you know that Kíli was sick, and why did you choose to visit him in the manner which you did?"

"When I arrived here, some of the townsfolk recognized me and began to ask if I were here because of the fever. I then asked 'what fever?' and the rest escalated from there. They filled me in on everything. One of them had let it slip that young Kíli was sick and, call me crazy, I wanted to see if he were okay."

"And all of that out of the goodness of your heart?" Thorin snorted. "You have not even seen him beyond the age of a toddler."

"He's grown considerably," Dáin commented. "He's a handsome one, isn't he? He has strong features like his Durin ancestors, but I heard that he has a smile all his father's."

Dís pinched the bridge of her nose.

"This is all just lovely," Fíli said dismissively. "Flattery won't get you anywhere. Why were you in his room?"

"Like I said, for a visit," Dáin replied. "And it's a good thing that I had."

"Why?" Thorin asked.

"He was having some sort of nightmare, thrashing about in his bed like a frightened animal. I was afraid that he would tear his hair out."

Fíli felt a ping in his stomach. A nightmare. Hadn't he been worried about that? He could not help as his eyes drifted accusingly to Thorin.

"And, you helped how?" Thorin asked.

"I gave him something to help him sleep soundly. Something I use when I need sleep while I'm traveling. It helped in an instant."

"Didn't seem to help for too long," Fíli sneered.

"You can thank your uncle for that," Dáin pointed out and Thorin emitted a low growl. "I admit that what you saw must've been a bit strange, but was it necessary to get physical?"

Thorin stared. "Perhaps I over-reacted."

"And I may have as well," Fíli admitted. "You did my brother a favor, so I should be thanking you."

Dáin smiled, satisfied. "I do not think he gets those manners from you, Thorin."

"Can you help us?" Thorin suddenly asked.

"I have brought my own personal healer with me. He is the one that I trust with myself and my family. I could have him take a look at Kíli."

"Have him look at all of the sick," Thorin answered. "Would you like to accompany us to a council meeting tomorrow? We have no more time to waste."

Fíli perked up in his chair. _Us_. Did his uncle still want him there?

"Yes, I said us," Thorin confirmed. "You have a right to be there, Fíli. Can I trust you to stay calm, to only speak if I ask you to?"

In spite of himself, Fíli agreed. He would rather hear what was going to happen personally. It affected him more deeply than half of those councilors could imagine.

"Very well then. Dáin?"

"I will go with you."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Despite this update, I am still swamped with schoolwork and I am officially out of pre-written chapters. However, because of the support and fuzzy feeling that you guys give me, I will really try to get crackin' soon. Please bear with me, I promise I like this one too much to drop it.**

**Here we go! The identity of the fever! Dun, dun, dunnnnnnn!  
**

**Reviews= Helping the healing process of my extracted teeth.**

* * *

Fíli was not looking forward to another council meeting, but at the same time he was. He was grateful that Thorin had asked him to go again, but he was not expecting such a warm welcome from the other councilors. Dwalin had offered Fíli one of his axes if he needed it, but the young dwarf decided that it was best for him to take the heat for his actions and deal with it. _Good kings deal with their problems._

Fíli was ready to offer the seat to the right of Thorin to Dáin, but the older dwarf didn't sit down until Fíli seated himself next to his uncle. As Fíli had expected, there were many whispers among the councilors, who seemed to have nothing better to do than gossip.

_"How foolish of Thorin, to let that disrespectful brat back in here."_

_"As long as he keeps quiet..."_

_"Is that Dáin Ironfoot?"_

Fíli shook it off, all of it. He did not care what they thought of him and he did not care if they wanted Dáin there or not. It was not their decision to make; it was Thorin's. Dwalin sat to his uncle's left, with his brother Balin at his right, and shot glares until the comments stopped.

Thorin nodded a thank you to his friend and stood. "I am not in the mood to drag this out. Yes, that is Dáin Ironfoot to my right. Yes, he is here to help us. This is actually not a meeting, as I have already made my decision."

"Is it as wise of a decision as letting your garrulous nephew back into a meeting?" Delseg asked boldly.

_Garrulous? _Fíli thought. That was the first time someone had called him garrulous as opposed to Kíli.

Thorin laughed. "Is there something that we need to talk about?"

"If one of us talked as boldly as he did, we would be out of here more quickly than we could say Mahal. He gets special treatment because he is your nephew."

"Boldly?" Thorin asked with a smirk. "Kind of like the way you are speaking now?"

Delseg fell silent and Thorin continued. "Do you want me to treat him like everybody else? Because that would be counter-productive. I should remind you that he _is _special. He is my heir. He will eventually be the one running these meetings. Those of you who will be alive in that time should do well to treat him courteously. He may not be as forgiving as I can be."

No one spoke, but Fíli smiled to himself. His uncle was right beside him.

"Dáin has brought a healer with him, one who is supposed to be the best healer in the Iron Hills. As we speak, he is examining the ill, trying to find what makes the fever tick. With any luck, he will find something that can cure it."

"Have any returned with medicine?" Nirnar asked.

"Aye, they have returned," Thorin confirmed and then sighed. "But they have found nothing that can help us."

"And we trust this healer because of whom, if I may ask?" Delseg spoke, this time much more softly.

Dáin stood. "Me. This is a healer that serves my family personally, my wife and my son. We had a similar strain of fever in the Iron Hills, I believe. It was his father that found a cure many years ago. Jorn is the greatest healer that can help Ered Luin."

"The greatest _dwarf _healer," Fíli muttered to himself. He was immediately becoming antsy. He wanted to meet this Jorn character, to see if he really were the best option for his brother. Luckily for him, the meeting came to a close shortly after that.

* * *

"It is an honor to meet you Fíli. I am Jorn." The auburn-haired dwarf offered his hand to the heir of Durin with a respectful and strong smile. He was armed with a thin, hooked nose and tawny eyes. His beard was put into one braid and came halfway down his chest.

They stood outside of Kíli's room, door closed so the dwarfling could get some rest. Fíli took the hand offered and nodded his appreciation. Soon Thorin appeared at his side and did not bother with greetings. "Do you have an answer?" He was never the most polite dwarf, but his patience was wearing too thinly to worry about courtesies. Furthermore, Jorn seemed like the kind of person who could understand.

"I just may," he answered. Although it should have been news to smile about, he spoke rather too grimly for Thorin's liking.

"Cut the niceties," Thorin instructed.

"I believe this is the same fever my father faced years ago, appropriately named the Iron Plague."

"But," Fíli mused. "Wasn't that not nearly as widespread as this?"

Jorn nodded. "I believe there is an explanation for that as well. I have spoken to many dwarves, some relatives of the - deceased - and I have noticed a disturbing pattern. Those who have passed, mostly the children, had had a previous sickness as a small child. That sickness had...weakened them, made them more susceptible to experiencing the Iron Plague's full wrath."

"But not all of them have had the previous ailment of which you speak, right?" Thorin asked.

"Not all of them, no," Jorn admitted. "But after speaking with many about previous medical histories, the majority of your sick have."

"So, what does this mean?" Fíli asked eagerly.

Jorn shook his head. "Those who have not had the previous sickness at a younger age, could pull through. I have heard that many of the small children died of this fever regardless, being too young to have had it years ago. It seems that generally the older they are, or the stronger, they have a chance of pulling through as the ones in the Iron Hills did, because without the previous sickness the Iron Plague is simply a fever. A sometimes fatal one, yes, but manageable. But-" he sighed and covered his mouth.

"Jorn," Thorin warned. "I need your honesty with this."

"All - not some, not most - but all who have had the previous sickness will die of the Iron Plague. If we do not find a treatment, that much is certain."

Thorin put a hand to his forehead. "By Mahal..."

"Wait," Fíli interrupted. "This previous sickness that you speak of; was it common? Did it have a name?"

"...The Red Crawl."

Thorin immediately saw tears well up in the eyes of his eldest nephew. Tears, for the first time in he could not remember how long. Even through the whole ordeal, Fíli had remained stoic, had kept his composure for his mother and brother. The fact that his emotions were flowing freely now was not a good sign.

Fíli shook his head, muttering a few barely coherent 'no's' as he staggered and leaned up against the wall, which seemed to be the only thing keeping him on his feet.

Thorin turned to him and gripped his shoulders. "Fíli, what is it?" he demanded.

"No," Fíli replied, his eyes a dazed blue as he stared at the floor. "Nononononono."

Thorin shook him. "Fíli, what?"

Fíli clasped both of his hands tightly over his mouth, let a few more tears drop, then removed his hands and said in a whisper, "Kíli had the Red Crawl as a child."

As Thorin stood dumbfounded, Fíli took that opportunity to wriggle out of his uncle's grip, and he bolted down the hall, out of the building, out into the rainy night, and he continued to run, leaving all behind.

He ran until he gripped the trunk of a nearby oak, turned his back to lean against the tree, and slid down to a sitting position. He brought his shaking knees to his chest and hugged them miserably. _All - not some, not most - but all who have had the previous sickness will die of the Iron Plague. If we do not find a treatment, that much is certain._

That was it; that was the verdict and there was no way around it. From the tone of Jorn's voice, Fíli knew that he did not have a treatment yet. Kíli was doomed. He had had the Red Crawl. It had been years ago, many years ago, but it did not matter. Fíli remembered it all the same.

* * *

25 years earlier...

_Young Fíli listened in confusion as his father's voice bellowed from the other room._

_'Why would Father want to yell at Óin?' he thought. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but his mother had instructed him to stay in his room, so he did just that._

_Curiosity winning over, Fíli cracked his door open when he heard his father emerge from Kíli's room and out into the family room. The young, blond-haired dwarf ran a hand over his beard and then shouted in frustration and desperation. Fíli jumped at the volume, but tried his best to stay quiet. He could find out what would happen to K__íli__ just by watching his father._

_After shouting, his father's right hand suddenly shot out and smashed into the stone wall of the room. Hearing the crack of knuckles, Fíli knew that he was using full force. His father punched the wall again, then again, then again, the rhythmic pounding something Fíli heard even over the blood pounding in his own ears as he watched the scene in trepidation._

_When he finally stopped, the hand that was drawn back was shaking and crooked, but most of all bloody. The stone of the wall was stained a fresh red as the older dwarf cradled his hand to his chest._

_Soon his mother came out and fretted, frantically retrieving a cloth to try and treat the newly mangled hand._

_Fíli doubted that his father felt any physical pain, only the pain that came with the news of the condition of his youngest son._

* * *

A few hours later, Fíli returned, spoke to no one, and immediately headed to his brother's room. Kíli was awake already and smiled when he caught sight of his big brother.

Fíli stifled his own tears back moments ago. Kíli didn't need to see him cry. Sitting in his usual seat by the bed, he asked, "How are you feeling, champ?"

Kíli shrugged dismissively, trying to remain aloof and indifferent. "Ehh," he replied in a hoarse but casual voice.

"I'm serious."

"No better, no worse," Kíli lied.

"Kíli?"

"Yeah?"

"Jorn hasn't seen you lately, has he? Or Uncle?"

"Uncle Thorin just did like a half hour ago. Why?"

"About what did you speak?" Fíli quickly asked.

"Nothing much, just how I was doing."

Fíli sighed in relief. It seemed that they were keeping his brother in the dark about his fate. It wasn't time to hear that yet.

"You okay, brother?" Kíli asked, trying to conceal a chill that shook his core.

Fíli did not miss it and felt his brother's forehead. Not satisfied with the temperature, he put another cold compress to his forehead.

"I'm cold," Kíli whined weakly.

"No, you're on fire," Fíli protested immediately. "You just don't know it."

Kíli's dark eyes widened and drifted to his brother. He gasped softly. "Your hand."

Fíli looked down at the bandages he had wrapped around his right hand and gave a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. I just banged it on something."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I've suddenly just realized that I haven't updated in a fair amount of time. My mouth feels almost perfect and once again, I appreciate all of the love this story is receiving. The more I get, the more I write! It's fantastic.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think.**

* * *

Kíli's condition was worsening. It had been five days since the first time he collapsed at the house. He was getting closer and closer to his last two weeks. The number of sick had now increased to 65: 44 children and 21 adults.

That was not counting the 17 who had already perished. As if things could not have been worse for Thorin Oakenshield's sister-son, 12 out of the 17 had had the Red Crawl in their youth; the other five were small children or the elderly, those too weak to fight off the Iron Plague regardless.

Kíli was sleeping for more than half of each day. Fíli had asked Jorn what the sign was that one who had had the Red Crawl was coming to an end. Jorn had told him to look for blood. The Red Crawl had been appropriately named because it used to cause bleeding from the eyes, nose, or mouth. Once that happened, death would usually come within three more days.

Fíli had also asked why Jorn did not have a full treatment for the Iron Plague, if his father had been the one to stop it in the Iron Hills years ago. Jorn had then explained that the previous cure, once he had deciphered it from his father's notes, should pull them through, except he was unsure of what it would do for someone who had had the Red Crawl. It may or may not have worked, and Jorn did not know which way to turn.

This bothered Fíli. He wanted to trust Jorn, but that treatment, once figured out, had never been used on someone who had previously had the Red Crawl. He was very glad that this was good news for Gimli and the others who had never had it, but things closest to _him_ were falling apart.

He could do nothing for Kíli. He was the big brother. It was his job to make sure Kíli was safe and happy. All he could do was watch him sleep, cough, and retch his way to his fate.

Fíli heard the door open, but didn't bother to care who it was. Then Dáin came into his view, pulled up another chair beside him and sat in silence. Fíli did not even turn his head in the older dwarf's direction.

"Fíli, I know that you do not have much cause to trust me," Dáin began. "But Jorn is working on the treatment right now. If it can be done, he can do it. I trust him with everything important to me. He has pulled my own son through more fevers than I can count."

"Anything as bad as this?" Fíli asked as he pinned his light blue eyes to Dáin.

He shook his head. "No. We've never even had the Red Crawl in the Iron Hills. It seems to be a sickness solely based in Ered Luin. How did those pull through, those who had in years ago?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't really remember," Fíli admitted. "I don't think we ever found a treatment for it. Some died..." he motioned to Kíli. "And some didn't."

"And when your brother had the Red Crawl, how old was he?"

"Five, I believe." Fíli put his head down to speak more quietly. "I haven't thought about it at all until now. It was such a distant memory, one that I blocked out years ago, one that my mother never wanted to think of again." He raised his voice a little, as if starting a new conversation and continued.

"And then last night, I had to tell her that the sickness Kíli suffered from and almost lost his life to is now getting the last laugh anyway. Funny how things work out, right? He pulls through a sickness when he could barely say a few sentences. Now he's older, stronger, and bull-headed and this has him bed-ridden and helpless."

"Helpless does not seem like a quality of this young dwarf," Dáin snapped.

"I can't help him; Thorin can't help him; you can't help him; not even my mother can help him. Is that not helpless?" Fíli asked wearily.

"Jorn can help him," he rejoined.

"You believe that if you want to," Fíli said somberly. "What do you think you're doing here, Dáin?" he asked, not caring if his voice sounded a bit accusing. "Your healer can do nothing more than give death sentences. It's obvious that Thorin doesn't want anything to do with you right now and you're a stranger to everyone else."

Dáin blinked. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Fíli shrugged. "It's been said."

"What happened to the hand?" Dáin asked, testing the waters with the young dwarf. He had no idea what would set him off, what would cause Fíli to tell him to leave.

"It's a little something I learned from my father," Fíli answered. "I might not remember everything about the Red Crawl, but I do remember how it made him beat his hand bloody on the wall, the night Óin said Kíli may not pull through. I don't think Thorin was there; actually I think he was in the Iron Hills. 25 years ago, am I correct?"

Dáin nodded. "Yes, I believe you are. It was the week of my son's third birthday and Thorin came for a visit to see his _nephew _Thorin. We were closer then. He was honored when my wife asked if my son could bear his name."

Fíli gave a small smile. "I don't think I've ever met your son before. How old is he now, 29?"

"Not for a few more months," Dáin answered. "A little younger than Kíli. I thought about bringing him here with me, maybe to get you lads to bond while I fixed things with Thorin." He nodded to Kíli's sleeping and shaking form. "It's a good thing that I didn't."

Fíli shook his head grimly and Dáin tried for some humor. "I don't think you'd care much for my son. He's terribly difficult."

Fíli laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't know the type, would I?"

"I suppose you're right. Thorin is not the kind of difficult that your brother is. He's introverted, reserved. I can hardly tell what he's thinking about anymore."

"No, that's not Kíli at all," Fíli confirmed.

"I was an only child," Dáin said.

Fíli mused. "That's quite lonely. So Thorin, your son, why do you feel distant from him?"

"I don't. Maybe he's just at the stage in his life when he's not allowed to think his father knows best for him. Ever had a similar time with your father at that age?" Dáin immediately regretted asking something so stupid and tried to apologize.

Fíli put his hand up. "Don't worry about it. I don't have time to dance around the truth anymore. My father is dead; he's been dead for many years."

That made Dáin silent.

"I don't seem to remember thinking about Uncle Thorin like that, however," Fíli answered, attempting the lighten the mood. "Although, I do think Kíli has hit that stage."

"With Thorin?"

"It could be because he's so much like our father. He and my uncle didn't always see eye to eye. I'm sure you can relate to that."

Dáin shifted his gray eyes away from the conversation, but Fíli was too interested. "So, _uncle_, what happened with you two anyway? Were you not close?"

He nodded. "We were, but the death of his brother, Frerin, tested a lot of his bonds. _They_ were close, close like you and your brother. That put a crack between us, but what shattered us? I don't think either one can remember. Your uncle has been through quite a lot, as has your mother. Maybe he just doesn't have time for me anymore."

"Thorin is not as cruel as you may think. You just came at an inopportune moment. If Jorn finds a cure, if Kíli pulls through and all that I want works out, maybe there will be time to save your relationship."

"You're optimistic, young Fíli. I cannot tell if that is a good or bad quality for a king."

"I'd rather not talk about that." Fíli was not ready to think about his future as heir to Erebor. It seemed like such an impossible thing, seeing as how a dragon was currently taking up residence there, but the way Thorin spoke of it...it was almost like he knew something.

"Why?" the older dwarf asked suddenly. "Do you feel pressure already? Bending under it as your uncle keeps adding more?"

Fíli raised his eyebrows. _That was rather sudden. _"Pardon?"

"I do not like to dance around the truth, either. I'm not sure you can be a king, Fíli. I do not want to hurt you. I just want to make sure that you're happy with whatever you do in life."

The younger dwarf narrowed his eyes. "That's awfully kind of you, _Dáin_. If you do not mind, may I ask you to leave?" he asked acridly.

"Why? No one has ever said these things to you? Thorin told you that if you acted like a younger version of himself, then you would be a good king? It's not as easy as that, young Fíli. You're a smart enough lad to figure that out, I think."

"Tell me," Fili said with a smooth smirk. "Do you always have a hidden agenda? My uncle was right to warn me of you. I do not know what your angle is, but I want you to leave."

"Is this a request from my future king?" he scoffed.

"An order, actually."

Dáin stood, and placed his hands on Fíli's shoulders, squeezing them just hard enough to make the younger dwarf uncomfortable. "Do I frighten you?" he asked softly.

"The only reason that I haven't attacked you like my uncle did is because my brother needs no more of this," he answered confidently. There was no shake in his voice, no cracks, only determination. "If you'd remove your hands, please."

The hands dropped and Dáin gave a phony bow, mocking Fili as he said, "As my king commands." Before he was completely out of the room, Fíli called after him.

"Dáin?"

He didn't respond.

"If you ever come in here again without my knowledge...I'll kill you."


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back! I really have no idea if my audience is still here, but I should put some things out in the open: This chapter took me a very long time to suss out, so I probably won't update in due time. I hope it's not for another two months, but I can't be sure. I also think this'll be wrapped up in maybe three more chapters...? I don't know either, but for now, enjoy and THANK YOU if you're still reading.**

* * *

Although Dáin's words were unsettling, Fíli did not mention their conversation to Thorin, Dís, or anybody else. With his hands full of other problems, he decided he had greater things to worry about. He didn't want to hover over Jorn, the only hope the dwarves seemed to have at that point, but he needed to know if he'd made any progress. He decided that it was best to ask Thorin about such things. The second Jorn knew something, Thorin would know.

His mother was currently watching over Kíli, so Fíli had a good idea that his uncle would be at their home. Fíli walked to his house, about mid-day, amidst the rain and stepped inside, quickly warmed by the hearth that seemed to always be burning. He found Thorin at his usual seat at the table, pensive and silent. Dwalin was there too, as were Balin and Óin. Dáin sat there as well, smiling when he caught sight of Fíli.

"What's going on, Thorin?" he asked, immediately feeling some sort of problem.

"Fíli, I've been expecting you," Thorin stated.

"I'm sorry. I would've come sooner."

Dwalin stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "No, it's quite alright, lad. Sit."

Seating himself next to Óin, he waited patiently for Thorin to tell him whatever was on his mind. Fíli looked at each one of the older dwarves' somber faces and decided the news would be bad. He breathed deeply. He could handle this; he'd been getting bad news all week.

"Jorn has a cure."

Fíli's face lit up with excitement, an instant smile spread across his cheeks and his blue eyes shined with gratitude. It was all going to be okay. Everyone would be cured. everything would be fine. "Then why all the glum faces?" he asked, slapping Óin playfully on the shoulder.

No one spoke.

"What?" Fíli asked, now growing impatient.

"Jorn has a cure, but he does not have it here," Thorin's answer only made his nephew more confused, and his eyes begged for an explanation. "Jorn has enough of what he needs to make one cure...for one person."

Fíli's heart sank. Any hope he had was simply snatched away. "How is that possible?" he asked, looking around the table. "What does he need? Where can we find it?"

"Fíli-"

"Thorin, it's simple. We find the ingredient he needs and we go and get it! It doesn't sound so hard, if he has enough for one draught, then what he needs for more should be around here somewhere. Why are we wasting our time?"

"Fíli!" Thorin snapped, making his nephew silent. "Listen to me."

Óin put a comforting hand of his shoulder.

"Jorn is missing only one thing: Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil?" Fíli snorted. "The weed? My brother is going to die because we can't find the most common weed in Middle-earth?! We have plenty of Kingsfoil here, I walk past the bushes every day!"

"We _did_," Thorin corrected. "As of last night."

"Come again?"

"I believe that last night, when Jorn told me that was probably one of the things he needed, all of the Kingsfoil was stolen, except the amount needed for one draught."

"_Stolen?_" Fíli hissed. That sounded impossible. Would no one notice that? How could the thief be certain that he got it all? "Who would do such a thing? That could-"

"Kill everyone infected," Dwalin finished grimly.

"I see what's going on here," Fíli announced. "Some low-lives spied on the conversation you had with Jorn and stole what we need because that would put us right where they want us. They want something in return, yes? Money, provisions, things we'll give to them to get that Kingsfoil back. They left enough for one draught so we could make a cure and know it would work, know it would be worth chasing them for. They're using the suffering of our people, children, _my brother_, so we can give them gold!"

He crossed his arms and huffed. "That's the foulest thing I've ever heard of. Any guess who they are? Where they are?"

Thorin pulled a bit of parchment from his tunic pocket and passed it to his nephew. "We don't need to guess. they've informed us. We found this in the morning."

The letter read:

_To The Great Thorin Oakenshield, Who Wishes He Were King under the Mountain,_

_We have stolen a crucial ingredient needed to make your healing draught for all of the unfortunate sick. We expect a full payment of gold, equaling the weight of two Men. If we do not receive our payment within two days, we will burn the Kingsfoil and let your dear nephew choke on his own blood._

_Believing that we have your attention, our camp is located 15 miles northwest of your location. Look for our fires._

Fíli's blood boiled in his veins at that filth's _mention_ of his brother. "That seems straight-forward," he stated. "Two days is more than enough time."

"Fíli, wait-"

"No! No, Thorin, what _exactly_ are we waiting for? For Kíli to die?" He stood. "Those are the terms and I believe they will do exactly what they've said they would. We're going - now!"

"It's not the simple, laddie," Balin said calmly.

"Sounds simple to me!"

"Fíli, we need to go about this intelligently," Thorin countered. "We do not know who these people are, how many of them there are, and we have no guarantee that they won't kill us as soon as we give them what they want. We need to have a plan."

"I have a plan: We go to their camp, we give them what they want, and we come home! We will not die, not when something this important hangs in the balance. We need to stop thinking and start acting. I, for one, will not wait another night!"

"Fíli, when and if we go-"

"_If?!_"

"When and if we go, you are not coming with us."

Fíli wouldn't have it. He simply wouldn't have it. Now was not the time for Thorin to be treating him like a child. It was his people, his brother that were on the line and he just had to be involved. "Yes, I am."

Thorin shook his head sympathetically. "No, Fíli. You can't. You are my heir, our people's last hope if something were to happen to me. We cannot risk you."

"I don't give a damn about that!" Fíli yelled and the eyes of the other dwarves went wide. Fíli respected Thorin, he trusted Thorin, but it was not his decision to make. He wasn't even going to ask his mother.

Thorin stood and a large shadow seemed to cover the room in a fit of suppressed rage. "Watch what you say next, Fíli," he warned.

"I don't give a _damn_!" Fili repeated and Thorin blanched with anger.

"Leave us," he told the others and they didn't need to be told twice. Dwalin was the last out the door, taking a few more seconds to give Fíli a cautious glance before joining the others.

Thorin walked over to his nephew, who crossed his arms confidently in front of his chest. He was a little afraid, but he would not be swayed, not even by Thorin, whom he idolized since his first memory. He would gladly give it up, his throne, his titles, if it meant he could cure Kíli and the others.

"This is not a joke, Fíli," Thorin said lowly.

"I know it's not. I've made up my mind, Thorin. In the end, none of that matters to me as much as my family does. I hope that's the same for you."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's your decision about the Elves. I wish you would get your priorities straight. Maybe if you had asked for their help, and swallowed your massive pride, we wouldn't be having this conversation; maybe Kíli would even be healthy!"

Thorin roughly grabbed his nephew by the collar and slammed him into the wall. Fíli cursed his heart for beating so rapidly when he was trying to stay impassive and strong, but he didn't remember his uncle ever doing that before. "Do you honestly _think_ that of me?" Thorin hissed into his ear. "Do you honestly believe that I would put something as unimportant as my pride over your brother, a child I practically raised?"

Fíli closed his hands about the wrists that still held him. "That's not the issue anymore," he said. "If you do not let me come with you, then we are not family." He pushed his uncle away from him and remained at the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just don't know what to think anymore," he said wearily. "These are supposed to be the best years of my life and everything is just falling apart. It's not fair."

"Smaug desolating my home before my eyes was not fair either," Thorin stated. "Do you think I complained?"

"I'm sure you complained," Fíli said with a grim chuckle. Earning a glare from the older dwarf, he added, "It's not as though you did not have a cause to."

Thorin shook his head. "I have not changed my mind. You will not go."

Fíli smirked and walked to the doorway. Before he left, he said, "I have not changed mine either."

The young dwarf took a swift walk to the Kíli's room. When he was about to enter, his mother came out, tears streaking her pale face.

"Oh, Fíli!" She wrapped her eldest in a bruising hug. "He won't wake. He was coughing blood earlier and now he won't wake. Jorn says he needs the draught within three days, and that's with the best scenario."

"It has to be the best scenario," Fíli stated. "Kíli will hold on that much longer." He furrowed his brow. "To whom will Jorn give the only draught?"

"He gave it to the infant, Rose," his mother told him. "We are waiting to see what her condition will be like tomorrow. It was decided that it should be given to the youngest of the bunch. It also had to be someone who did not fall asleep yet or else the the results could take many days to show, when the person woke up." She shook her head. "It couldn't have been your brother."

Fíli smiled softly. "Not that Kíli would've taken the draught before anyone else." And he wouldn't. If Kíli were awake, he would probably let everyone be cured before himself. "Get some rest. I'll stay with him."

His mother kissed his temple and locked eyes with him. "You are more like your father than you know," she said. Soon after that, she left and Fíli went into his brother's room. Although he wouldn't wake or respond, Fíli decided to talk to him, to tell him what was going on.

He took his usual seat and grabbed Kíli's hand, off which heat was practically radiating. Like most, his brother looked so much younger in a deep sleep. "You're scaring the life out of Mother, you big goof. I suppose this is fun for you, getting to sleep all day, no chores, no training, no responsibility. But that's always been you, right?" he asked with a chuckle.

"You would love this, Kíli. Honest to Aulë thieves have taken all of this Kingsfoil needed for the cure. That's funny, huh? Kingsfoil, of all things, is deciding our fate here. I probably wouldn't have believed it until this week. It's been such a strange week, really. Things aren't the same when you're bed-ridden, little brother. Thorin is now working on some kind of plan to get the Kingsfoil back. It's adorable because he doesn't think I'm coming along. I think I'll sneak my way to their camp. It would save me Thorin's attitude."

Kíli lay still...not that Fíli expected anything different.

"I am so torturing you when you wake," he informed him. Closing his eyes, and then opening them again, Fíli said, "Dáin's getting pretty creepy, too. It's not like that's a concern of mine anymore. He can do what he wants." He gripped the warm hand underneath him more tightly. "I really, _really_ need you to be okay. Hold on for me, yeah? I love you."

* * *

**I think the note might've been too much like an action-movie hostage negotiation, but whatever. I like those movies. I also changed the payment from the weight of ten Men to two Men, because I'm the author, so let it rock.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Howdy! Yes, I've updated. I would apologize for the wait, but I can't promise I will be much more speedy with my updates. I want to finish this story, however, and I will.**

**I also know that Dáin's portrayal in the movie is vastly different than mine, but I'm in no mood to change it now, so I'll keep him creepy and cryptic for the sake of this story.**

**I hope that doesn't bother anyone.**

**Ah, I've ranted again! Just enjoy this extra long chapter for being such a patient audience.**

**Oh, and keep in mind that dwarf ages are not the same as ours.**

* * *

Fíli was not a reckless person, that much he knew for sure. Everything he did, he did for a reason. Never would he go into a situation without thoroughly thinking it through first. Kíli was the maniac. He was the one that gave Thorin and Dís gray hair prematurely. He was the one who had a very different definition of what constituted as a lie. Fíli went about everything he did in his life with honesty and nobility.

That much had been true, until his brother had fallen sick.

Honesty, Fíli had decided to throw out the window. Nobility wouldn't give him much help either. He was now solely focused on what had always been his focus: family.

He pulled his golden-red hair back and clipped it in place. Hair could not get in his way where he was going. He wrapped his body in a gossamer black cloak, only something to cover the armor he wore. High black boots went up to his knees, their real purpose was to conceal the twin daggers strapped to his shins. He finished with a short sword on his belt; it had been his father's.

It hadn't taken him more than three hours to figure out a plan after his meeting with Thorin and the older dwarves. He had told no one, no one except Kíli of course, because he needed to get it out to someone. It had been the only time he found Kíli to be a good listener.

He looked back at Kíli's still form. There was only the faintest rising and falling of his chest, his breathing too shallow or too weak to hear.

Hating the almost complete silence in the room, Fíli decided to speak. He was aware of the one-sided conservation he would have, but whether Kíli could answer him or not, he needed to know that he was _there_. Fíli felt as though his presence alone would have his brother know that no one had given up on him.

"Everything's all wrong, brother," he began. "Uncle, he-uhh...I don't think he trusts me anymore. It could be because he can see my urge to strangle him in my eyes every time he disagrees with my idea to ask the Elves for help. I know they're elves. I know they're pompous morons, but they know a little something about healing."

"You should wake up soon. The weather's getting really good for you to pick up your bow and people are going to start thinking I am talking to myself, which is never good for a future king."

"What I'm going to do, some think it's foolish. I understand that I may lose the trust of Thorin, maybe even my people, but when you wake all I ask is that you do not resent me for it. I'm doing it for the better of our people, of course, but I'm doing it for you as well. I'm really doing all of it for you, brother. I guess it's true that I'm not myself when you're not around. You don't have to worry, though. This will not come back on you and I'll be fine."

He squeezed his brother's hand one last time before he left.

Sneaking, as Fíli had never known before, was one of his strong points. As heavily armed as he was, Fíli easily snuck past the guards at the healing house - Thorin probably had people to keep their eyes on him - and hid behind some trees until he saw his mother enter it. He had to make sure Kíli was taken care of before he went anywhere.

It had been raining continuously for a few days, so he pulled his hood about his head and began walking the edges of the woods around Ered Luin. As soon as he found the building where he was sure the community kept its gold, he made a beeline for it. He looked around a few times. No one could recognize him sneaking into the treasury or his plan would surely be foiled.

_"I, for one, will not wait another night!"_

He hadn't been kidding when he'd said that. He couldn't wait, as he had no guarantee that they were going to give the thieves what they wanted in the first place and when and if they did, Thorin made it clear that his eldest nephew was not allowed. Therefore, Fíli had decided that day to take the gold that was needed and go on his own.

It was stupid. It was beyond stupid, and if things went south, there would be no one to help him out, but it was a risk he had to take. He _would _return with the Kingsfoil, he _would_ make it in time to save everyone still afflicted, and he _would_ see his brother walk again.

He hadn't taken more than two steps toward the treasury when a strong, gloved hand clamped around his nose and mouth and stifled the surprised yelp that came from his rising terror. The animal in his brain screamed in his ear.

_Fight, fight, fight!_

And he had to. If he could not even fend of this intruder, how could he anyone else if his plan were to fail? His attacker began to drag him toward the woods and managed to knock him on his back. Embarrassed as well as frightened, Fíli lifted up his leg and kicked as strongly as he could above him.

He heard a grunt and the hands that had been holding him down disappeared. He got up as swiftly as he could and pulled both of the daggers at his shins, facing them at his opponent.

His attacker put up his hands in surrender. It was Dáin. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear!" he began, holding his jaw from where Fíli's foot had landed.

Fíli would not let his guard down. "Would you mind explaining to me why you attacked me?" he asked.

"I had to get you away from the treasury without any noise. I'm sorry I had to do that. I will not ever do it again, but you cannot go in there by yourself. I cannot let you have the gold."

"If you have any intention of getting in my way, you should think hard on it," Fíli said acridly. "I am not waiting for whenever Thorin wants to strike. Days, it's a matter of days and we all know it. I'm getting that gold. I'm taking it to their camp. I'm getting the Kingsfoil, and I am saving my brother."

"The big hero, huh? Tell me, Fíli, how do you plan on carrying the gold that is the weight of two Men?"

Fíli blinked. How could he be so stupid? "I'll take it in trips," he said lamely.

"You know the thieves will not tolerate that. It's a mission you cannot complete on your own."

"Do you doubt me? I can do it. I do not need the blessing of anyone, especially my uncle."

"Allow me to go with you," Dáin said.

Fíli stared. This had to be some kind of trick, a way to drag him back to his uncle by the ear like he were a petulant child.

"_You _want to go with _me_?"

"Do you not trust your own kin?" the older dwarf asked.

"Well, I have not seen you for many, many years and the first thing you do is sneak into my brother's room when he is completely vulnerable. Then, you practically give me a heart attack when you grab me like a brutish orc. Forgive me if I am a little mistrustful."

"I have a host of dwarves at my command that could help carry the gold. They will keep this very quiet as they only listen to me. I want to help you, Fíli."

There was no time to weigh his options because time was running out. He didn't believe that Thorin would leave Kíli to die, but his judgement on the matter was clouded because he had to deal with the pressure of making the right decision to benefit everyone in Ered Luin. He still wasn't sure if he trusted Dáin, but Dáin was the only other person he knew crazy enough to defy Thorin, aside from his mother, of course.

Fíli nodded.

* * *

Dís and Thorin stared at the almost still form of Kíli and said nothing to each other. There was really nothing more to say. Thorin was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The thieves that had taken the Kingsfoil were unknown to him. If they were many in number and decided to deceive Ered Luin, Thorin could face heavy losses and they might not receive the medicine at all.

But when he looked at Kíli - shaky, pale, and barely clinging to life - it made him want to take that chance. He was regretful of when he had last seen Fíli, the sadness in his nephew's eyes of not being involved in such an important thing for his people, but he could not risk his heir, however brave and strong everyone knew he was, especially with the condition of Kíli.

It pained Thorin greatly to think of it, but should Kíli perish from the Iron Plague, Fíli would truly be his only heir. He was just too vital to the Dwarves to risk.

"I think Fíli resents me," he said to his sister. Of anybody he had ever known, Dís was the best listener. She was kind, patient, but always spoke the truth when Thorin needed it. She was a constant in his life that kept him sane and he rarely thanked her for it.

"That's not true," she said. "He's just angry, as we all are. Fíli has always been so strong, even as a child, but I do not know how long he can keep that up without cracking. He's still a boy, after all."

"I just wish I could get him to understand me, to understand why I cannot risk his life in such a mission."

"Oh, he understands it; he just doesn't agree with it. You know he would never defy you had Kíli not been so directly involved, yes?" Dís's blue eyes met Thorin's of the same hue. "I think he disagrees with you quite a lot, but he rarely has the heart to let you know. He's very much like his father in that respect, but now his filter is gone. He's fiercely protective of his family, Thorin, especially after the death of his father. It weighs on him more than he lets on. He's afraid of leading our people in the future if we aren't around. He's afraid to lose his brother. He's quite simple, really. He just wants to have his family. Everything else, he can leave."

"Fíli is a better lad than I tell him," Thorin admitted. "He's very kind, dauntless and sharp and he understands the world much better than most his age. I'm failing him. I'm failing everyone, especially this one," he said, nodding to the youngest of the Durins.

"Now, what kind of talk is that?" his sister asked.

Thorin shook his head, trying to find the words. "Do you ever think about our sins, sister?"

"Our sins?"

"The sins of our people, of our ancestors. We were once mighty and strong, even arrogant. We thought we were the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth and maybe it was true that we didn't care much about others. Don't you ever think we deserved this?"

_"Deserved this?"_ Dís questioned.

"I never used to believe those things. I always thought that the desecration of Erebor, the wrath of the dragon, the deaths of our grandfather and brother, and the disappearance of our father, were all results of the forces of evil, but what if this is denial? What if we are being punished? What if Kíli is suffering for the wrongs of his ancestors?"

"Stop," Dís commanded. "That is not what is happening here."

"Then, what is?" Thorin asked desperately.

"I do not know, but I know that all of the deaths of my family and now this are not punishment. Every people in Middle-earth have done wrong, have been selfish. The dragon Smaug, what punishment has come to him? The wicked Elves that left us to burn, what will become of them? You can drive yourself mad with thoughts like this, brother, but allowing them to control you is what separates the weak from the mighty. You have to believe that what is happening to our Kíli is a force of evil and like all forces of evil, what must we do to them?"

Thorin did not have an answer.

"We take them out," Dís finished her thought. "Now, pull yourself together and tell me how you are going to help my son."

"I wish I knew," Thorin said. "I wish I knew, Dís. I don't have any of the answers anymore."

"Look at him," Dís commanded. "Look at him, Thorin."

Thorin stared down at his nephew. A thin layer of sweat was on his forehead and his eyebrows knitted occasionally to show that he was in a restless sleep.

"It doesn't matter that you don't have all the answers," Dís continued. "It only matters that you have the ones he needs."

* * *

Fíli and Dáin walked in the direction of the camp, northeast, and they looked for fires. Eight dwarves walked behind them, each carrying a heavy sack of what had to be gold.

None of them had said anything after Dáin had told them that they were to be silent on the journey. He hated the silence, really, so he decided to engage his nephew in some light conversation.

"Are you a capable fighter, Fíli?" he asked.

Fíli furrowed his brow.

"Now, don't be modest," Dáin added. "Life is too short not to let others know of your abilities."

"I believe I get stronger every time I train, but there is always room for improvement. I became skilled with short swords because I worked hard at it. Kíli has always been blessed with the quick hands and keen eyes for archery, and I always tell him that he should not rely on raw talent. Laziness can be detrimental for a warrior. You were only a little older than Kíli when you fought at the Battle of Azanulbizar, am I correct?"

"Thirty-two," Dáin confirmed. "It was the day I found out if raw talent would get me through evil. I was reckless then, angry, always having to knock heads to show the world how powerful I was. That battle showed me what was what."

Fíli couldn't imagine being in a battle at his age. He was probably strong enough, he knew that, physically, at least, but the blood, the stench, the death, being a someone's friend one day and his pallbearer the next, he did not now how he could handle something so horrific. He did not know how Thorin even functioned with what he had seen.

Eventually, Fíli saw smoke on the horizon and grabbed Dáin's arm. "The fires." The continuous rain had since stopped.

Dáin signaled for the other dwarves to halt, but took Fíli with him to follow the smoke. They stood at the top of a hill and below that hill they saw three fires and three tents.

"Three?" Fíli whispered. "Is that it?"

Dáin shrugged. "I guess we have to find out." He began to descend down the hill and Fíli followed. Soon, a dwarf emerged from each tent to meet the members of the Line of Durin.

One of them was a black-haired dwarf that looked in his early eighties, with a large crooked nose and hard hazel eyes. The other two were a bit younger than him, with dark auburn hair that looked like cousins or brothers.

The black-haired dwarf had the air of their leader and he was the first to speak. "Where is Thorin Oakenshield?" he asked. "I do not know you two."

"That's Dáin Ironfoot," said one of the others. "The lad is one of Oakenshield's nephews."

"For certain?" asked the leader.

"Yes, I'm certain. He's the elder one."

The leader flashed a wicked grin at Fíli. "How's your dear brother?"

Dáin saw Fíli tense in anger beside him and grabbed his wrist. "We are here to negotiate, Fíli," he whispered. "These are a desperate bunch of dwarves who will try their best to break you down. Do not give them the satisfaction."

"I am Yerin," said the leader. "Behind me are Balak and Nalak, cousins. I believe we asked for gold."

Dáin whistled and the dwarves who carried the gold began down the hill.

"Prove it," Yerin said when they reached the bottom. One of the dwarves opened his sack and retrieved a large handful of gold tokens. He handed them to Yerin who inspected them carefully. He nodded to the cousins who brought back two large bags of their own and Balak pulled a small sprig of Kingsfoil and handed it to Fíli.

"It's Kingsfoil," he confirmed.

With a snap from Dáin, the other dwarves dropped their gold and Yerin pushed over both bags of Kingsfoil with his foot.

Dáin handed one to Fíli immediately and grabbed the other, hastily ushering his nephew back up the hill. "Hurry, now."

Fíli did as he had been instructed, but could not help but to wonder why Dáin was acting so strangely. He had been completely collected during the exchange and now all of a sudden he was moving like goblins were chasing him.

"Stop!" Yerin's voice shouted. "This is not gold!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Is it really true? Has TFJ96 really updated? Yes, it's true. It's been a very, very, very busy semester and another one's about to start in a few months, but I figure that now is a good time to focus on my writing again. If you're still reading this, thanks for hanging in there...you the real MVP.**

**This is not the last chapter, btw, so enjoy!**

* * *

"Stop!" Yerin's voice shouted. "This is not gold!"

Fíli's heart jumped to his throat. _Not gold? How is that possible?_

He glanced to Dáin, but the look on the older dwarf's face showed Fíli that he knew all about it. "What do you mean it's not gold?" he demanded, but the question was really aimed at his uncle.

"One is filled with gold and the rest are stones," Yerin said with an acrimonious steel to his voice. "Are you daft, Dáin Ironfoot? Thinking we would be foolish enough to be tricked?" With a snarl, he removed a short sword from his belt, Balak and Nalak doing the same.

"Oh, no," Dáin said smoothly. "Only long enough to see what's behind you."

Yerin's eyes widened at the threat. "What do you mean?"

"Turn around."

Suddenly, from behind the thieves, small bursts of light began to arise. It was the light of torches and from the number of them, there had to be at least that many people carrying them.

The light came closer and soon over two dozen dwarves came into view, all armed and fierce-faced.

"They move on my command," Dáin announced. "I suggest you stand down."

"Foul liar!" Yerin spat.

"No less foul than stealing something that could cure innocent people?" Dáin countered. "Some of whom are children? We'd also like the gold back, but you may keep the stones and your measly lives, if you obey."

Fíli gritted his teeth. This had been his plan all along. Dáin had just taken him so he wouldn't mess anything up. He hated being out of the loop and he hated being used. He should've heeded Thorin's advice about Dáin. If this plan didn't work, all those lives, Kíli's life, would be forfeit.

Thorin told him to think and he didn't. He never did. How could he be trusted with the lives of his people now? "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"You have to trust me, Fíli," Dáin said. "I know what I'm doing."

From the look on Yerin's face, Fíli doubted it. "This isn't over!" he assured them, as a dwarf under Dáin's command took back the gold. "I hope you know the first person we'll set our eyes on!"

Fíli's thoughts burned with rage. How dare he mention him. How dare he even _think_ about him. He stepped forward. "If you ever come _near_ him-!" Dáin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder that was trembling with anger.

"These are empty threats from empty people, lad. They know that they've been beaten. I'm half-tempted to kill them right here."

Even Fíli recognized in all his fury when a line was being crossed. The dwarves under Dáin's command did not deserve to turn into butchers. Thievery was something awful, but not as much as murder. They stole something that controlled the lives of dozens of sick, but they got it back, after all. A slaughter was not necessary.

"No," he told Dáin.

"No?" the older dwarf questioned. "These filth toyed with the lives of your people, of your brother, and that means nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me. We have to be better than those who oppose us. We have the kingsfoil. It's time to heal our sick and move on."

"Fíli-"

"This is the last I want to hear of it!" he snapped.

To his amazement, Dáin respected his opinion and escorted the three far away from Ered Luin. Then, they returned home with the last ingredient to heal the ill.

* * *

Of the last 65 infected, 9 died before the cure had the chance to work through their systems. They were mostly very young or very old, but even with the sorrow of those losses, it was hard not to rejoice at the fact that the Iron Plague was gone from Ered Luin.

Thorin did not even know that Fíli had any part in retrieving the kingsfoil, as Dáin thought it would be for the best to allow Thorin to lay the blame on him. And Thorin did. Still, he was not as furious as he could've been because Kíli had gotten the cure in time and was recovering more quickly than expected, resilient as ever.

It was mainly Fíli who had vouched for Dáin and the mistrust he'd seemed to bear for his distant uncle had instantly faded when he saw Kíli stand on his own two feet. Gimli was recovering just fine himself, so this made it very difficult for the citizens of Ered Luin to criticize Dáin. In fact, they celebrated him like a hero.

He remained in Ered Luin, which was a shock to Thorin because he'd assumed Dain would just leave once his work was done, coming and going like the summer winds.

Thorin's negative thoughts died down as soon as he saw Kíli's face light up, when he entered his own home. He was still pale and needed to sit down much more than a dwarf his age, but Jorn had assured them him that he was close to a full recovery.

"Now, remember," Fíli reminded his younger brother. "Don't do anything too strenuous. If you need something or-"

"Fíli, I think I can handle it," Kíli replied. "Anyway, you need some rest. You look worse than I do."

"Not quite yet, nephew," Thorin corrected. "It's _you_ who needs the rest. Go on."

"Fine," Kíli grumbled, as his mother took him by the hand and led him into his room. Fíli heard her offer him soup, water, a neck rub, all things he declined, telling his mother that she frets over him too much.

"Come outside with me," Thorin said. "We need to talk."

Fíli's heart stopped. About what did he want to speak with him? Could it be that Dáin had told him of Fíli's involvement in recovering the kingsfoil?

They stepped outside and Thorin lit his pipe. Fíli remained silent, waiting for his uncle to initiate a conversation.

"He looks good," he said.

Fíli nodded in agreement. "Although, he shouldn't push it."

"But that's Kíli," Thorin replied.

"That's Kíli."

"You know how much I care for him, right? Both of you?"

"Of course I do," Fíli said.

"I think of you as my own, sometimes. It's so convincing that I often forget it isn't true. Kin is everything, Fíli. Even as a ruler, you can't help being selfish in that regard. It's the reason why I didn't seek the help of the Elves."

"What?"

"I wasn't thinking of everyone else, only Kíli."

"Uncle, what are you talking about?"

"Our family has had a long, long history with these people, Fíli. I trust you know that there's more animosity between us and them than between them and other dwarves. We are a great and ancient bloodline. We've feuded and continue to feud with the great and ancient elven bloodlines. I don't trust them, Fíli. I don't _trust_ them with the lives of my kin."

"I don't understand."

"It may seem foolish, but I convinced myself that they would help everyone but Kíli...because he is my kin. More than that, I was afraid they would hurt him because they must hold so much hatred for me. In doing this and waiting for Jorn, I risked his life and the lives of others, all because I couldn't shake this fear that they would retaliate on him. But I want you to know that if no other option presented itself, I would've called upon the Elves. However, I was able to hold onto my prejudices _and_ find a cure for my people. Those were my reasons, Fíli. I'm as selfish as any person can be."

"As farfetched as your hunch may have been," Fíli said. "I'm glad that you put him first, too. What is the good of family if you can't be selfish for them?"

"As a ruler, you're not allowed to be as selfish as others."

"How do you balance it?"

"I just hope that situations like these ones rarely happen," Thorin admitted. "I managed to squeak by yet again. But it's worth it. When I look at your brother - healthy, smiling, and stubborn - I can't help but think that it's worth it."

"He's lucky to have you," Fíli said. "We both are." He paused for a few moments. "We'll be alright."

* * *

When night fell, Kíli became overheated. It was only a residual effect, but it was uncomfortable enough to have him throw his blanket off of his bed. It wasn't a big enough problem to call for his family, so he would just have to bear with it and get some sleep. After fifteen minutes of laying in bed, burning and shivering at the same time, he sat up.

Carefully placing weight on his wobbly legs, he stood. Holding onto his bedpost for balance, he steadied himself, worked through his lightheadedness, and left his room. Being conscious of waking the house, he quietly slipped through the front door and into the cool night. Feeling the soft, moist earth on his bare feet made him feel a little better already and he enjoyed the peaceful night.

He walked over to the well, collected some cold drinking water, and sipped slowly (because Fíli was always on him about practically choking on whatever he ate or drank) until his felt his body cool down.

He walked back to this house, but was unaware that he was being watched from a distance.

* * *

**Eek, a cliffhanger! Yes, I'm meaner than I seem. Reviews would be appreciated.**


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